


In the Heartwood

by momolady



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, First Time, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-11
Updated: 2013-09-11
Packaged: 2017-12-26 06:26:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/962668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/momolady/pseuds/momolady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa shivered, but still reached out, put her hand against his arm and gripping. “I don’t know any songs.” She murmured. Feeling his nose in her hair, touching her, she wrenched back a bit.<br/>He frowned and shook her slightly. “Don’t pull away from me, bird.” He met her eyes, his own showing a degree of hurt.<br/>"You’re hurting me!" Sansa whined, trying to pull away, but feeling no more strength left in her. "Just leave me alone please." She whimpered, her head dropping forward in defeat. Her forehead pressed against his chest. "I can’t take it anymore…"<br/>He flinched, and rubbed her back softly, more comforting himself than her. “I can take you away from here. Take you home.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written by: amaresempra.tumblr.com & momolady.tumblr.com

Sansa came down the hall, walking briskly, just wanting to get somewhere she knew, somewhere safe. Then again, what was really safe for her at King’s Landing? She came to her door and opened it, walking inside she felt some relief, some strain lift away from her chest. She closed the door behind her, bracing against the handle and let her shoulders sag.

She had been there for so long. Learned the way the court lies. Learned how to lie to even Cersei, to chirp and sing for them. A little bird, she would later think of bitterly. All had been liars, and all of them better than her. All but one, who never lied.

He rolled over with a grunt and sat up, his cape charred and reeking of red sour. His eyes caught her small lantern, dark and far away. He had been there, for all of it. He had given her advice she took as cruelty, later finding it forged and tested truth. 

And here he was now, staring at her from her small bed. His amour was dingy with the tide of war, green blazes outside giving strange illumination.

His plate was half loosed, chest and back pieces nearly off. His legs clothed in leather sheathes, that plate discarded somewhere else.

He gripped and ungripped at his knees, hands bare. his shoulder plate and jerkin still intact. “Not up for staying with the hens, little bird?” He growled, a sick sardonic smile crossing his face.

Sansa jerked, pressing herself against the door even harder. She saw him, made out the face that had tormented her. Wasn’t it bad enough? She thought to herself. Why does he have to be here too? She quivered, her knees shaking, and she slid down, falling to the floor. 

"What are you doing here?" She managed to whisper out as he rose from the bed. Even from where she was, she could smell the red sour on him. She could smell the fire. She could smell him.

"I’ve come to take you, little bird. Take a song, and make off with you from this bloody sodden shit-hole you see as a gilded cage" He gripped her arms, pulling her up, wavering slightly.

"It‘s not gilded." She whimpered

He smelled her hair, burying his nose against her ear. “I’ll have that song you promised me.”

Sansa shivered, but still reached out, put her hand against his arm and gripping. “I don’t know any songs.” She murmured. Feeling his nose in her hair, touching her, she wrenched back a bit.

He frowned and shook her slightly. “Don’t pull away from me, bird.” He met her eyes, his own showing a degree of hurt.

"You’re hurting me!" Sansa whined, trying to pull away, but feeling no more strength left in her. "Just leave me alone please." She whimpered, her head dropping forward in defeat. Her forehead pressed against his chest. "I can’t take it anymore…"

He flinched, and rubbed her back softly, more comforting himself than her. “I can take you away from here. Take you home.”

She looked up at him, eyes wet, bottom lip quivering. “Back to Winterfell?” Her voice a faint rasp. “You…?” She wanted to reach up and pushed the dirty hair from his face. “You would do that for me?”

He gripped her closer to him, primal and shaking himself. “Damn Fool. What haven’t I done for you?”

Sansa seized up, feeling herself pressed against him. She wanted to fight, wanted to claw at him and break away. Instead, her arms folded around him, bringing herself closer. What hadn’t he done? Seven hells, she hadn’t seen it. She’d been to blinded by pretty things to see it.

"I’m sorry." She cried. "I just want to go home."

He wiped at her face with trembling hands, his own torture letting a softness come through. “Then pack your things and we’ll leave now, while the battle burns. I .. I need to be somewhere where…” He looked out then back to the floor. “Somewhere that isn’t burning.”

Sansa reached up with a trembling hand and touched his cheek, she felt the tears on his skin, washing through the sticky blood. She swallowed the lump back in her throat, fingers clinching against his rough cheek.

He pressed a rough kiss into her palm, then stood taller, more resolute. He walked to her bathing solar, dunking his head in the cool water there. The sobering effect nearly instant.

Sansa brought her palm to her chest, his kiss still burning her skin. She stood then, quickly moving about the room, collecting things quickly and absent mindedly. She reached for her doll on her nightstand, she looked it over slowly. For a moment it made her think of Arya, made her think of home. She looked up then, seeing Sandor standing above her, dripping, wiping the water from his face. She steeled herself, taking in a breath, pressing her lips hard together. 

The doll fell from her hand.

"Come now, bird. I’ll have my song later," he rushed about her room, gathering boots and a thick traveling cloak. "Winter is coming," he muttered, throwing his cloak over her. "Keep your head down, and hold on to me. Your life depends on it."

She held her arms up, having him scoop her up like she was nothing. She clung close to him, keeping her head down, tight against him. She even squeezed her eyes closed shut, bringing back her childhood belief that if you couldn’t see it, it couldn’t see you. And she prayed, prayed the Godswood would hear her.

"Let it all burn." She prayed.

He rode through the cities gates, his cloak covering her cowering form behind him, sword drawn. Every so often the cry of death would meet her ears and whatever slowed them was gone. They rode hard through the night till dawn, till her hands were raw from clinging to his plate and mail

He stopped, nearly rolling off of stranger, the destrier trotting weakly to a nearby stream.

He helped her down, and seemed different. Sobered, more than one way. He was a craven now, a deserter. And he had stolen his little bird from the lions grip.

Sansa looked up at him, nodding slightly. Her legs were sore, hands felt as if they were on fire. She looked at them, red and chapped. Once so beautiful and soft. She wondered if she had packed her body oil, grabbed it amongst all the things she had scrambled to get in her haste. She sat down by the tree, opening up her bag and looking around inside. Surely she had something to ease the ache.

He sat against a tree, stretching low, catching his breath. His arm finally leaving his sword’s hilt. “Put them in the water, girl. “He growled, but not so harsh. More tired.

Sansa glanced towards him, nodding gently. She stood, going to the stream and setting her hands inside. The cold burned, the chapped skin burned. She let loose a frightened, shocked gasp. She let stay though, letting the water turn cool and then soothing. She swallowed, eyes stinging with tears. She pulled back and went to sit back at the tree. She wiped at her eyes and pulled Sandor’s cloak tight about her, shivering.

"It’s cold." She said quietly, afraid to test him too much.

He reached forward, under her skirts and tore from them.

Sansa screamed quietly.

He knelt over her legs, tearing the fabric with his teeth, then wrapping her hands expertly. “I’ll gather brush. You start the…” His breath hitched , but he rose and left, soon returning with brush and kindling for a night’s fire

Sansa stared for a moment then shook her head. “I…I don’t know how.” She looked up at him guiltily. He had done so much for her, risking his neck to take her away. He only asked her to start the fire, and she knew she’d fail him.

"A servant…or someone always did it for me." She explained weakly.

He grunted, nodding for her to come near.

Sansa hesitated for a moment then inched closer towards him, looking up for some sort of sign of how to move next.

He showed her how to use a flint rock, the sparks flying fat and thick. “Light the kindling and it’ll start a fire. “

Sansa took the flint rock and knelt down by the kindling. She struck them, as he showed her. Nothing. She tried again, a little spark. Once more, she told herself. She struck, and spark flew, the kindling caught fire and a grin spread across her face. The first real smile she had had since she came to king’s landing. She looked up excitedly at him. "I did it!" She stood, almost bouncing. "I did it!" She laughed, feeling so proud.

He nearly smiled back, but only sighed, relaxing against the root. “Burn that white cloak. Lay out yours, and sleep. We’ll ride in the hour of the rose”

Sansa clung to the white cloak for a moment. It was the same one he had laid on her after Joffery had her beaten. It was the one that had taken her out of King’s Landing. She sat down near him. “Don’t you need it?”

"I’m no bloody kings guard, and it’s an eyesore. We’ve enough trouble avoiding attention being a hound and a proper lady alone on the road north."

Sansa nodded slowly taking the cloak off and returning to the fire. She hesitated for a moment, then placed it amongst the growing flames. She went back, taking up her cloak and placing it around her.

He grunted , patting the ground next to him. Soft moss, not uncomfortable. Definitely better than anything else for her aching legs. Sansa sat beside him.

“Any sound, anything, and you wake me or scream.” 

At first, she tried to fight sleep, but it grew too much for her. And soon, she was curled against the hound. The wolf pup against the gnarled hound. He, too, was reluctant to sleep, but it overcame him, his hand on the hilt, his face still tight with stress.

She fell into his lap, comfortable and stretched out.

Soon the noon hour of the rose was upon them, and they were upon the black war horse once more. this time Sansa in front, swathed in a brown traveling cloak, Sandor behind her in bloody plate and mail. They rode deep into the night, coming to a war-torn village. 

"We can squat in a house till the morrow, bird," he growled against her ear. He had been so quiet and stiff without wine to loosen his tongue and heart.

"There. That one." He pulled next to an abandoned shack, the door buckled in. It was better than the ground outside, the walls offering them respite from the wind.

"Start the fire, I’ll catch us our dinner. " And he was gone.

Sansa started the fire again, using the flint the had given her. She then went back to her bag, looking for her body oil. She unbound her hands, they looked better than they had last night, but still not the soft white paws they had been. 

She sat by the fire, smoothing the oil on her hands, leaving the bottle by the fireplace. She sat, waiting on him to return. She pondered for a moment what she would do if he didn’t return. It hurt to think that. It made tears come to her eyes.

He came back, a clap of thunder at his back. He put some skinned creature over the fire, roasting it up. The fat crackled and was fragrant, so much more so than anything she had eaten on horseback.

"Fat lil hopper," he grunted, handing her a stick, taking two for himself.

"Thank you." Sansa added a smile. She tasted the meat first, testing the waters. It tasted sweet, quite amazing. She suddenly realized how hungry she was and began plucking off large chunks with her fingers, then just gnawing at it with her teeth. She forgot she was supposed to eat like a little bird, she began eating like a wolf.

He noted her, his own hungers darkening in his gaze. The rain hit the roof and the sides of the walls, cancelling out the world outside in a fuzz of white noise. The hearth fire crackling up to the small chimney.

"We’ll wait out the storm and sleep well, the rain will cover our tracks. We can move slower on the morrow." He looked her over, his lips and throat dry for wine.

Sansa licked her lips, glad to the rest-bit, thankful for the roof over their heads. “Thank you again…” She said hesitantly. “I mean for…for everything. I don’t know if…if I can ever repay your kindess, Ser.”

He grunted softly. “Don’t chirp at me. I’m not a fecking ser. I have a name. Use it.” He met her eyes, almost challenging

Sansa swallowed. “Thank you,” she began, “Sandor.” She said his name a soft whisper.

He shivered, and looked into the fire, his hands itching to touch her. He stood instead, finding his brush in the saddlebag and heading out to groom Stranger.

Sansa sat still, wondering if she had made him mad. She finished her meal and then stoked the fire. She tried to busy herself with absentminded things like going through her things, checking her hands. Every so often throwing her eyes outside to see if he was coming back. She wondered what she should do. Was there a better way to thank him? After some time she decided to change. She began removing her clothes, with some difficulty, Fingers fumbling with the toggles and buttons. She slipped down to her underclothes and began rummaging through her bag for some good to travel in.

He slid in, and watched her, his hair lank and his face clean from the rain. The blood and soot washed from his plate. 

"You’ll soil your dresses, m’lady" he said , with just a touch of irony. He undid his plate with a loud clank, as rid himself of his mail.

Sansa tried to cover herself, shivering from the fact he had seen her bare skin. “Cou-could you please not look? Please?” She managed to squeak out. From the corner of her eye she saw him remove his mail, seeing his broad shoulders, tunic stretched tight across his back.

"And why should I look away? Because you bade me to?" He pulled his jerkin over his head, slapping it to the ground flatly. "What do you expect? I’m a dog, Sansa." his jaw set. That wasn’t completely true anymore, but the point was clear. He sat and watched her quietly, drinking in her form.

"You’re almost a woman. Teats and all. " He sneered

Sansa shuddered. “I’m not used to…it’s not proper.” She tried to insist, but knew her arguments were invalid. 

She tried to forget he was watching her and she stiffened her back, removing the rest of her dress. She reached for the new one, pulling it up. She slipped her arms through the sleeves turning so the light from the fire hit her and she could see the small buttons. She fumbled clumsily with them, her hands trembling, fingers sore. 

"Oh…oh darn…" She whimpered.

He came upon her quietly, pressing his chest against her back, smelling her hair once again. “Having trouble, m’lady?” He murmured against her ear, strong hands folding over hers.

Sansa gasped at the sensation. He wasn’t dressed, his hands so close to her breasts. She shuddered, feeling cold slivers slicing through her. “Please…” She gasped.

He pressed a soft kiss to the side of her head, fingers working her buttons and straps, clothing her warmly

He was much gentler than she thought. Just like when Joffery had shown her her father’s head. Sandor had been tender then. She put her hands over his, cupping them against her chest. “Let me thank you.” She murmured, building her bravery. She turned slowly, reach up and touching his face again. “Properly.”

He flinched at her touch, but steeled himself, meeting her eyes.

Sansa stood on her tip-toes, stretching to meet him. She craned her neck up, closing her eyes and tried to find his lips with hers, first meeting his scruffy chin, feeling the rough beard, hard jaw, with her soft lips.

He watched her as she did this, waiting for her to pull away in her proper manner.

He smiled, wolfishly. “Thank me properly, then?” He pressed her to the wall, lifting her over his hips. “Maybe that’s how you thank a Ser, little bird. But not a dog.”

He pulled her close, mouth claiming over hers in a rough hot press. His tongue dove deep into her sweet wetness, suckling out her tongue. He drank in the taste of her, roughly nipping at her lips when the time came to let her breathe - if only for a moment

Sansa at first tried to struggle, his kiss hard and unwanted. She squeezed her eyes shut tight. His tongue long and rough and forcing inside her. But it was the nip at her lip, the soft bite, that somehow made her heart skip a beat, made her feel something hot in her stomach.

"Please…"She moaned when she got the chance to breathe.

He frowned, pressing another rough kiss to her neck. Another challenge, another push for her to hate him. Revile him. Stop making him feel uncomfortably warm. He nipped, raking his teeth across her tender flesh. Her sweat sweet against his tongue, skin salty from the long days traveling. He craved her

Sansa pinched her thighs into his side. Trying to ignore the way his teeth on her skin made her feel. She dug her fingers hard into his shoulders, hoping to hurt him, hoping to stop this, to stop herself. She let out a soft moan, and realizing quickly what it meant, she tried to hide it, scratching at Sandor’s shoulder with her nails.

He grinned, giving her a short, trusted, grind before letting her slide down the wall. He had won that battle, but not the war he waged with Sansa Stark. He made his way to the mud room, suiting up once again to brave the outside. “I’ll return.” he said, leaving before she could object

Sansa sat there silent, reddened. She swallowed back the heart in her throat and tried to collect herself. She laid down her cloak, and giving up, frustrated and flustered beyond her wildest belief, she laid down, forcing herself to try to sleep. 

Damn Sandor, she thought, damn him. She squeezed her eyes shut. Sleep, sleep damn you.

Come morning, she barely had to think about the previous evening. He shook her awake, then scooped her up, dragging her to Stranger and setting her up to ride. The rain had turned to ice, to sleet, to snow. The further they traveled, the less harsh the weather became.

Late in the day, spring snow blanketed the earth, frosting over flowers. Sansa felt grimy and the horse did need a rest. 

"Perhaps we could stop for the night?" She suggested meekly. She spied a trail of dull red, following it into the wood with a renewed vigor. "Surely this can’t be…." She thought.

She seemed intent on following the dull umbered trail, before entering a clearing with a pleased gasp. “Oh my lo- s..Sandor look.” she said, breathless. 

Sandor jerked his head, pulling the reigns tight and following Sansa’s eyeline. He could telll for sometime she was beginning to feel uncomfortable. She was a lady after all, a girl. She was not used to this, not use to the filth, not used to him. It could be a kindness to her at all if he bathed. He jumped off Stranger and went to the trail kneeling down beside it.

An ancient heart tree parted the clearing, steaming pools pocketing in the lush green earth all about. The face carved in it an old intricate one, bloody sap tears mingling down its wrinkled face in ebbing webs.

Sandor stood, walking beside his horse. Looking out over the scene he nodded slowly, approaching Sansa again and helping her down. “I suppose this is as good as time as any to take a rest.” He spoke gruffly. He watched her as she approached one of the pools. He inspected the scene himself, looking into them and, upon inspection, saw that they were rather deep.

She smiled , quickly unpacking. The clearing was warm enough their cloaks became stifling. She quickly disrobed, pulling her hair from its braid. “We wont have to have a fire tonight” she said, not realizing the comfort that thought brought.

She led her horse to a streaming pool, hands on the laces of her bodice. She paused for a moment, as if suddenly aware of the lack of coverage in the clearing

She swallowed and shook her head, making fast work of her dress and smock. She knelt in her smallclothes and boots, unlacing them carefully. Her calves and feet were swelled from the long riding. She leaned on her back against the moss, pulling them off over her head , a long sock languishly pulled with a pleasured sigh

Sandor’s shoulder stiffened some and her turned to the girl, removing his cape, watching as her hair tumbled down her shoulders, hiding her face. He was pleased in her excitement, in her joy at this brief restbit. He turned away again, walking away slightly so that he was hidden from her, but he could still spy upon her as he began removing his heavy mail.

She dipped her feet in first, visually tensing and relaxing, checking over her shoulders quickly before pulling her smallclothes off. Her hips raised, and soon the off white cotton was with the rest of her clothes, and for a long moment she sat bare at the edge of the pool. With a heavy breath she slipped into the steaming pool. Her entirety disappearing into its depth.

Sandor pulled his tunic up over his head and rubbed the back of his neck. Stretching so his back popped. He roughed his hands through his hair, turning his head slightly so he could see the little bird undressing. Her hands rubbed over her calves and feet. And then she moved into the pool, he saw the soft curve of her breast before she went into the water. He stood, moving bare towards the pool.

Sandor eased himself into one of the pools. The heat at first stung his skin, but as he sunk himself in it became a dull relief. He forced himself under, holding his breath and dunk benathe the heat and steam. Just a pool away, the little bird washed herself, bare and vulnerable. Push those thoughts from your head old man, he told himself.

Sansa let the heat sear over her. She sighed and resurfaced, hair a firey lotus on the steamed pools surface. She worked through her knots, and resigned to floating on her back. ” This is lovely” she said, her voice carrying. She hummed softly, using her smallclothes to scrub at her face and skin

She scrubbed herself pink, sighing in pleasure loudly. Her laughter rang out as her mare nipped at her in the water. She washed the beasts legs as well as she could reach.

Opening his eyes under the water, Sandor saw a maze of tunnels connecting all the pools, supported by the roots of the tree. Pushing himself forward, he decided to try to see if he could find something for their meal. He swam through the tunnels, under the roots. He found some roots he knew would be tender and good to eat. He pulled some up and then came to the surface, catching his breath.

Long white legs kicked in place near a forest clam nest. Her thighs were marred with riding sores and healed welts, her lower stomach a thatch of dark auburn curls gently flowing with the motion of her body. Underwater she was stasised, available to be viewed from all angles. Her foot lightly met with his shoulder and she cried out.

Sandor grabbed her ankle as he pulled himself up, sliding up beside her and putting his other hand on the bank. He smirked at her, placing the roots he had gathered on the bank. “Excuse me, my lady.” He laughed smugly. “It seems you’ve found our dinner in this pool.” He said, inspecting the clams beside her thigh.

She tensed up and scrambled for the side, blushing a bit. Her knees met with her chest, pink slit temptingly revealed under the water. “D-dinner?”

Sandor plucked a clam from the roots of the tree, holding it up and showing it to her. “We can boil them, or bake them in coals.” He rolled the shell in his fingers. “I doubt you have the stomach to eat them whole.” He looked back at her, seeling her become a ball.

She turned one over in her hands, eyes losing focus for a moment, drinking in his bare chest. She swallowed hard. His body was honed and taught, flecked with countless scars and thatched with black hair. She felt a heat thrum between her knees and ribs, licking her lips.

Under the water was blurry enough, but his height had always affected her. Sometimes scaring, but as of recent intriguing. Her pupils grew dark and doe eyed as she handed the clam back to him. “I’m sure they’ll.. be lovely”

Sandor began chipping the clams off the root, placing them on the bank with the roots. He felt her eyes on him and he suddenly began to feel irritated. Then he felt her touch his thighs. He looked at her, meeting her gaze. He frowned then, reaching away from the clams and gripping her leg, pulling her into him. “What are you doing, little bird?”

She yelped softly, sliding against him. Her long thighs sliding into place in the crook of his arms, her heat pressed to his chest “I.. I haven’t seen you out of clothes before..” she breathed softly, her eyes flicking up to him. She wanted him. This daft bird was getting aroused from him touching her. “I’ve not seen…a man out of clothes before.” She laughed softly, insecure. She was seven and ten and tall, a woman of four years, and she had yet to see men so much as piss in her presence.

Sandor arched a brow, smirking. He was causing her pleasure. “Even with this face girl?” He laughed. “Are you so naive as to become wet between the legs because of my form?” He noticed his nipples tighten, erect, and jut up. Moving his hand down her arm and down her waist. “Does it please you so?” He hand cupped her thigh.

Her hand moved to his face, breath hitching with his movements. She softly spared his burnt side of its hair, looking upon him closely. She only had seen him so near on the rare occasion she would wake before him, and study him sleeping

Her lips parted, pressing a cautious kiss to his burnt temple, eyes open. “Sandor..it pleases me.” She murmured, thighs flinching.

Sandor’s hand moved caustiously between her thighs. “You’re a liar, little bird.” He whispered, her other hand catching her face and pulling her mouth to meet his. Pressing his lips to hers and opened her mouth, catching her breath and entering her. He opened up her thighs, rubbing her tender, pink slit with the blade of his fingers. 

"Although, one part of you is honest." He snarled, nipping at the pale flesh of her neck.

She cried out, biting back her sounds. Her thighs throbbed and flinched. She was oversensitive and he wasn’t naturally gentle. She bit into his shoulder, rubbing herself against his large hands, neck opening to his mouth. “Im not lying- hnh” she clung to him , needy.

Sandor was hot with need, his back tense again with restraint. He could have her, right now. But for what? Her veil torn would bring her shame one side of him growled. The other side howled louder with a strong “bugger that, little bird is mine”. An internal battle drew across his face, her bite bringing him back. He snarled, kissing her harshly. His large frame pressing her to the wall of the pool, grinding his hips to hers with heady want.

He groaned almost inaudibly, hoisting her from the water. He sat her on the pools edge, shoulders parting her thighs. His nostrils flared inspecting her sweet cunt, nosing between her lips without a moments hesitation. His lips puckered around her nub of nerves, tongue hungrily lathing over her slit, strong arms holding her in place

"Seven hells little bird, you’re sweeter than you buggering lemon cakes" he growled, returning to his newfound treat

He tongued her peak relentlessly, thick fingers sliding over her gentle puffed slit. He growled in pleasure at her noises , the steady flow of her wetness growing about his lips and chin. His teeth softly grazed her throbbing point, pulling away slightly, testing her reaction.

Sansa whimpered, her hands going around Sandor’s waist. She saw no need in fighting now, she saw no way she could win other than just giving in to him. She craned up her neck and kissed his rough chin, kissed his neck. She enjoyed feeling his body, hard and hot, pressed against her. The feeling of a man enveloping her, warm and safe. A soft moan escaped her throat.

Sansa’s knees pinched and she lurched forward, eyes opening wide. “Anh! Uhmm…” She caught her breath, licking her lips. “What was that?” She whimpered, looking down along her body and at Sandor between her thighs.

He smiled, looking up at her. He was almost handsome, from above like this. His slate eyes dark with want “What was what ,little bird?” He breathed over her, longingly lapping at her slit, swirling slowly around her clit. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

She whimpered, covering her face in her hands.

He pulled her closer by her plush rear, burying his face in her slit again, kissing and suckling hungrily. “I’m hungry for you..” he smiled, lapping more “So Im eating you…” His thick tongue found her nub again, intent on finishing her off. “Don’t hold back, Sansa.” He breathed against her, her name a soft whisper from his hoarse voice. 

He kissed again, tongue rolling long and hard against her needy clit, working in a rhythm to bring her to her peak

She still didn’t understand, but the attention felt nice, his mouth and tongue even nicer. She whimpered, gripping onto his shoulders for stability, grunts and moans coming more freely from her now. She then felt something, her stomach tightening, a quickening going throughout her body. “Oh Gods…” she whispered. Her fingers digging into Sandor’s hard shoulders. 

He growled against her, licking her thick sweetness, suckling down her honey “Mnh..give me it all, Sansa” he demanded, tongue diving deep into her slit, feasting on her fresh cum, flicking her veil softly.

"Oh Gods!" She gasped loudly, her body exploding. This new feeling taking her over, making her warm and numb.

He ground his nose to her throbbing clit, tongue filling up her engorged slit. He moaned against her, lapping her clean.

"Mnh. Good girl." He murmured in his soft voice he used to calm stranger and maid. He pulled back slightly, sliding her back in the water, propping her on a mossy root for easy sitting.

Sansa rested her head against his chest, weak fingers gripping at his arms. She breathed heavy, sated, light as air. She buried her face in his chest, feeling some slight strength return. “Th-thank you.” She murmured, just wanting to hold him.

He smirked, nipping her shoulder softly, guiding her hand to his stomach under the water “Don’t chirp your thanks..” he murmured into her ear, rubbing her palm to his thick head, nudging against the soft flesh there. “Show me..” he whispered.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He sat near her, stiff. "Don’t let me take advantage of you, little bird." He said softly. "Don’t let me touch you if you don’t want it." He swallowed, breathing quicker "I’m not a raper." His eyes downcast, distant. “I’m not my brother.”

He gripped over her hand, his own trembling. He pressed her fingers as far around his girth as they would go, squeezing, teaching her the motions.

"Mnh. Sansa…" He breathed, eyes down on her mouth and body for a change, not boring into her own.

Sansa tensed then, the sweet sensation he had delivered her turning cold. It was her first time touching an man's cock, she'd never even seen one. She flinched, pressing closer to his body. With curious fingers she trailed down, touching the hard, velvety shaft. It was thick in her hand, filling her palm. Looking down she could see it through the water. "Oh." She murmured.

Sansa looked up at him, moving her hand in the motion he was teaching her. "Is it alright?" She asked, mouth pursed. She wondered how such a thing fit inside. How it'd fit inside her, how it'd feel. It seemed impossible. She licked her lips then kissed his chest softly.

He groaned in response, slowly moving his hips to meet her strokes, fucking her hand sweetly "S'fine," he panted, mouth exploring her chest, tonguing her nipples tenderly.  
Sansa moaned, arching her back so her breasts pressed against his lips. The force of his hips against her trembling hand, she felt his power coming through. She gripped tighter, fingers quivering. 

"Are all men as big as you?" Her voice quaking.

He snorted , shaking his head at her. "I don’t make it a habit to study men." He growled softly. 

He was larger than most in every way, his heavy cock no exception. He pulled her close, sliding his girth between her thighs, vigorously fucking the small space between her stomach and closed legs.

Sansa swallowed. "I'm sorry I just..." She then lurched, feeling him slide up between her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, squeezing tight. His cock dangerously close to her quim.

"San-Sandor...ca-careful." She whimpered.

He pant softly against her ears, slapping her thighs to his strong legs, needy cock seeping oily strings of precum, slicking her up even under the water. 

"Say my name again," he murred against her neck, hips bucking harder.

“Sandor,“ voice a temptress’ growl. 

He groaned, rutting against her slit, pressing his thick head into her opening, stretching her, gripping her wrist and leading her hands to his length. 

"Now stroke," he growled, rolling his hips slightly, cleft slit of his head rubbing hotly against her swollen veil. "Quickly," he commanded.

Sansa gripped with both hands, pumping up and down. He was hot and hard, thick veins poking through. She obeyed his commands, his cock almost inside her, almost tearing her apart. She bit at his flesh, kissing, eating hungrily at him.

The sensation of him against her, his manhood so close to being inside at first scared her. 

He groaned, swelling further, "ngh..Sansa". He rolled his hips, moaning deep in his throat, thick hot cum finally cresting in bursts. He shuddered, pressing against her maidenhead, cumming thick ropes of hot need. Her slit quickly filling to the brim, packed fuller with every throb "Nhn…little bird-!" He grunted, holding her close, cock spilling into her more and more.

She closed her eyes, fingers tightening against his cock. She let a soft whimper escape her throat as Sandor pressed her into his body. 

She trembled at the heat, the feeling. She swallowed, licking her lips. "Are you...was it..." Words failed her, embarrassment slowly taking over.

He smiled, panting, lifting her out again. Her raw pink lips creamy white with his juices. "Look at you, pretty bird. All my cum fits in your little cunt." He dipped his finger in, scooping her out gently

Sansa shivered. "Please...d-don't talk like that." Her shoulders came up around her neck, she tried to hide herself in her hair. She barely understood what had just happened, even if she did enjoy it. Would she have to marry the hound now? She looked into his face with questioning eyes.

He laughed softly, a steel scrape on stone. He cleaned her out with his fingers, kissing her tender lips there softly. "No worries, milady. Your honor is intact. Feel for yourself." He said, his exterior hardening again. He dunked himself under the water , resurfacing in his own pool. " I’ll try to watch my buggering cunted mouth in your presence."

Sansa went to the edge of her pool closest to his. "I wasn't worried...really." She folded her arms and watched him. "You didn't have to leave." She felt lightheaded, in clouds.   
She averted her eyes and pressed her lips together. She could still barely wrap her head around what had just happened, what she did. "It was nice..." she murmured quietly to herself.

"Glad to be of use, milady." He said, but lacking its normal bite. He was glowing as was she, even flaccid his cock hung heavy between his legs.   
He pulled out his only spare clothes, dressing but not armoring. He kept his feet bare, thick fuzzy things they were. He popped his toes into place, his sodden clothes soaking in a nearby pool.

"If you prefer nudity I wont object but don’t expect me to care for you when you catch your death."

Sansa frowned slightly, going for her clothes. "I'm sure you would enjoy it." She sniffed. She dressed lightly, not worrying about underclothes. She then brushed back her hair, but didn't braid it back. She then looked up at him and felt herself blush, smiling dumbly.

"Is that all it takes to earn your affection? A good cum and soft words?" He was lashing out again, back to protecting himself. She was used to his backwards temperament by this point. Loosely translating to I am having uncomfortable feelings.

Sansa blushed. "I'm sorry I just..." She shook her head slightly. "Don't act as if you didn't enjoy it either." She stood and picked up the food he had gathered before their tangle. She looked them over, not exactly sure how to cook them. A fire might be to stifling.

He sat near her, stiff. "Don’t let me take advantage of you, little bird." He said softly. "Don’t let me touch you if you don’t want it." He swallowed, breathing quicker "I’m not a raper." His eyes downcast, distant. “I’m not my brother.”

Sansa looked up at him. "I know this." She said softly. "I wanted it then. I'm sure I will want it again." She kissed his cheek gently. "And thank you...for being kind to me." She squeezed his hand gently before standing again.

Sansa hiked up her skirts, airing out. The heat from the pools getting to her. She sat down and took up her comb, brushing out her hair, making it shine.

He grunted, gathering charred wood from a lightning struck tree and weirwood leaves. He wrapped the wet clams, starting a smoking char under them.

He busied himself with tending to the horses, brushing and cleaning them thoroughly, picking stones from their hooves. He frowned, Stranger would need new shoes soon. Gods help the smithe for that job.

He breathed in the smell of clams, pulling on mail gloves to pull them out. Their slits were open, yellowy pink tongues ripe for eating. He handed her the crusty bread from their saddleback, showing her how to slurp them from their shells.

Sansa enjoyed the meal. Although, at first, the texture of the clams did put her off. She looked over Sandor and pointed to his hair. 

"Has anyone brushed your hair before?" She asked, a slight smile on her lips.

"I’ve brushed it." He grunted, combing it over his burns with his hands.

Sansa leaned forward slightly. "I could brush it for you." She felt like teasing him, maybe. Testing the waters. 

She was feeling daring, and since she had seen a whole new side of Sandor, she wanted to see what else was there. She reached for her brush. "I could brush out all those kinks."

He frowned again, flush creeping up his neck. "It.." He cleared his throat, looking away from her, his burned side full to her face "It doesn’t grow there. You’d be wasting your time.”

Sansa bit her lip. "You have enough. Plenty." She reached out to him, finger going through the damp locks. "I can still run my fingers through it." She then cupped his cheek.  
He stiffened, but leaned into her palm slowly. He closed his eyes. "Do what you please.” He grumbled softly.

Sansa smiled excitedly, taking her brush back up and sitting behind him, first raking her fingers through his hair then taking her brush to his few locks. "Just tell me if I pull too hard."

He snorted again, closing his eyes. His hair fell between his shoulders, black and lank with unruly knots and waves. Half his head seared free of hair, the one side always combed over his scars.

Sansa knelt down, kissing the top of his head after she was done brushing. "That wasn't so bad now, was it?" She looped around him, sitting at his side.

He pulled his hair away from his scarred side, letting it fall how it wanted. The bone in his jaw silvery beneath his scarred cheek.

He frowned, his neck still red with blush. "Go to bed , little bird." He murmured, patting the bedroll next to his under the heart tree.

Sansa took the bedroll. "Oh fine." She sighed. She rolled it out and took her cloak. She laid under her cloak, but after a moment, it became to hot. She undid her dress letting it hang open loose, cool air coming in.

He stamped out the small smoker, watching over her. He took in her figure, lying down beside her, his sword belt on his hips again. Sansa rolled over, half asleep, half awake. She reached for him, fingers fumbling to find his wrist.

He touched her hand, pushing her hair from her face tenderly. He lay down, pulling her to him once more, kneading her tight thigh muscles, working through the aches of horseback riding and vigorous rutting.

He kissed her exposed back, tenderly giving her intimacy. Soon he slept, curled around her protectively. Possessively. His face buried in her hair, the only flames he would embrace, other than the seven hells he would burn in for being a dog in love with the maiden in flesh.

She moaned softly in her sleep, cuddling up closer to him, her dress falling open further. She curled her leg as he massaged her. She took a deep contented breath.


End file.
